Gilles, which I ought to see,
and a house, unspoiled since mediaeval days; but the question of these
sights was settled adversely for me by my master and mistress. The
frieze they did admire, but it sufficed. Their inner man and woman
clamoured for a feast, and the eyes must be sacrificed.
As for me, I did not count even as a sacrifice, of course, but I
followed them back to the car as I'd followed them from it, and the car
flew toward Nimes.
Just at first, for a few moments which I hate to confess to myself now,
I was disappointed in Nimes. The town looked cold, and modern, and
conceited after the melancholy charm of Arles and the mediaeval aspect of
Avignon; but that was only as we drove to our stately hotel in its
large, dignified square. Afterward--after the inevitable lunching and
unpacking--when I started out once again in the society of my adopted
relative, I prayed to be forgiven.
A gale was blowing, but little cared we. A toque or a picture-hat make
all the difference in the world to a woman's impressions, even of
Paradise--if the wind be ever more than a lovely zephyr there.
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